On a Promise
by Snapecharmer1
Summary: At the doorway of The Railway Arms, Alex isn't satisfied. Spoilers for the entire series. My first A2a fic, please let me know what you think.


"Go."

One little word, and she felt the weight, the terror, the agony - just slip off her shoulders. She felt lighter, and she stepped back, her hand slipping from his roughened cheek. The door loomed before her, and the shackles of leaving Molly behind were gone. Alex Drake had completed the task appointed her in this world between worlds.

She had saved Gene Hunt.

Her hand pulled open the pub door, and laughter washed out over her, pulsing music weaving out into the brisk night air. Her life was meant to be continued wherever this door led her, and she was thankful to be letting go of all the angst and burdens she had dragged behind her since she had been that unbelieving little girl on a hillside, the stench of gasoline in her nose and a balloon clutched in one sweaty hand.

One toe over the threshold, and something seemed to shake her back to life. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she caught his eyes, those brilliant sea foam green orbs piercing hers. Chin held up proudly, his lips almost softened into a faint smile. Restored to his former glory, the Manc Lion. The Guv. The ferryman of lost copper souls. He nodded at her, the light catching the sheen in his eyes.

And she couldn't go.

Not yet.

Letting the handle go, she twirled and rushed back to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He stuttered back a couple steps with an "oof" of breath as she hit him with the full force of her body. Gloved hands pulled her tightly to him, his breath in her hair.

"Yeh can't stay, luv," he murmured against her. She nodded into his neck, breathing in Old Spice, and stale fags, and whisky. Man-stink, she thought, and almost giggled in spite of the ache in her heart.

"I know, Gene." she pulled back, her eyes locked onto his. This time it was he who placed his hands against her cheeks, and a frown tightened his face briefly, before he pulled a bit away and ripped off his driving gloves, letting them fall to the ground. To touch her face one final time, his skin to hers. If this was all to be had, he would take what he could get. Her hazel eyes twinkled up at him, her lips spreading in that rare sight of genuine warmth. No prim, closed-lipped smile for him. All teeth and lips, shining into his face like a spotlight, making his gut fill with warmth.

"What are yeh doin', Bolly?" he asked gruffly. Her head tipped to the side, and he slid his fingers into the silken tresses , pushing the clip out of her hair, causing the bound locks at her forehead to spring forward to gently frame her face.

"Come on, Guv," she said, her dulcet tones rich with amusement and something deeper. "Did you think I could really let you go with just that little kiss? After all these years?"

He nodded to himself, and this time it was he who seized the moment, only too aware what he had squandered before - standing like a right poofter while she made all the moves. Well, the Gene Genie didn't wait for the birds to take action.

His lips brushed hers lightly, stone against lips softer than his wildest fantasies. Her face cradled carefully in his hands, he caressed her lips with all the tenderness he could muster. The kiss was so light and tender that he felt her shudder against his body, even through her voluminous coat. It shifted the moment, and he deepened the kiss, turning the moment into something else. All the love he could pour into her, followed by all the desire for her. All the moments their eyes had locked for just a second too long, all the certain death scenarios that had stolen the air from their lungs fearing for each other's safety. The almost embraces, the never finished dates, the longing barely disguised by crude innuendos and brushed aside laughter.

He loved her, he wanted her, he yearned for her. He stole her breath away as he crushed her to him, fingers tightening in her hair as she in turn wound her fingers in his and pulled him closer. They kissed like the lovers they never were, had always been.

His tongue swept into her mouth, and he branded her, knowing distantly the cruelty this would be when she was left in the Pub without him, the ache in her throat as she watched the others enjoying their reward. He knew instinctively how she would feel, because the five seconds it took her to get to the doors the first time was utter gut-wrenching agony to him.

She met him stroke for stroke, and he could feel the tears against his wrist. He wasn't sure whose tears it was, and it didn't matter.

The air shifted, and he could feel that her chance for peace was almost gone. With great reluctance, he pulled away from her, noting with satisfaction the bruised lips, the color flushed high in her cheekbones.

"Yeh need to go, Bolly," he whispered down to her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, rubbing her cheek against his hand as he let them slip out of her hair.

"I know."

She stepped back from him, her eyebrow raised expectantly at him. "You aren't going to play the hero forever, are you?" she asked, and he smiled crookedly at her breathless tone.

"Well, if I'm on a promise…." He dangled the sentence, his eyebrows waggling at her. She laughed brightly, a laugh he hadn't heard in months.

"it depends on how long you make me wait, Mr. Hunt," she said teasingly. She turned and made her way back to the Pub, her heels clicking a familiar staccato on the pavement. Her hand reached out for the handle, but before she pulled it open, she turned, her face solemn.

"Gene, do what you have to here," she called softly. "Just know that I'll wait for you. We're unbreakable, after all."

The unspoken words between them hovered, and as always, neither of them uttered them. They didn't need to be said. He nodded, his lips curved up gently, and she tugged on the handle, stepped across the doorway, and was gone in a flash, the door swinging shut behind her.

Turning, he faced the night. His Kingdom rose before him. Breathing in the dirty air of London, he squared his shoulders and strode off for home. His heart felt strangely light. He clutched the epaulet in his jacket pocket and smelled her perfume on his coat and promised himself One Day.

The sooner the better. He HAD pulled, after all.


End file.
